Suckfest at George's Place!
by Mickis
Summary: George was having the most effed up day. See, you can’t say f--k in the summary, although I bet she would have wanted to.


**A/N:** _Hey guys. I'm new around here. (Not this site, just this particular part of it). I'm gonna introduce myself as a person who LOVES Dead Like Me. I love the show for its smartassness, the characters (Mason is possibly the funniest person to have ever appeared on a TV screen) and its original plot. Because of all those things, I figured there must be tons of creativity brewing on the fan fiction front, but as it turns out there aren't that many stories in the collective. So this is me contributing by adding one more. Hope you like. Thanks._

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**SUCKFEST AT GEORGE'S PLACE!**

by

Mickis

**Genre:** General/Humor

**Language: **English

**Fan Fiction Rated: **T

**Summary: **_George was having the most effed up day. See, you can't say f--k in the summary, although I bet she would have wanted to._

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**One**

Today was gonna be a fucked up day. Immediately upon waking up, I knew I would be better off staying in bed. Had it not been for Rube, I would have put on my best pathetic sick-voice (which is actually quite good) and called Dolores. But you see, Reapers don't get sick days. Actually, Reapers don't get sick, but that's not the point. So even if I were to ditch work, I still had to get my ass to Der Waffle Haus and do Rube's bidding.

Anyway, the day first started sucking when my alarm clock decided to cease being an alarm and settled for just telling the time. Luckily I was fortunate enough to wake up on my own just twenty-five minutes later than usual, but those twenty-five minutes was all it took for Daisy to sneak in the shower before me.

Now I know most people think of Daisy as a beautiful person, which she is. Not necessarily God's gift to Man –her self-proclaimed title – but, you know, she's pretty. However, living with her I have come to learn something about beauty, and that is how it takes its fucking sweet time in the mornings. (Which is why I have made it my life's purpose to always, _always_ shower before her). But since today was the Day of All Things Evil, I found myself standing in the hall, draped in a towel, kicking in the bathroom door and screaming for her to hurry the fuck up. The shower had gone silent long ago, so I knew she wasn't occupying the bathroom for any hygienic purposes, but Daisy being Daisy, she didn't care. She didn't come out for another twenty-five minutes, nose freshly powdered and hair perfectly dry, smiling at the world like she was fucking Snow White or something.

After having towel dried my hair (explaining why it looked like a stray cat had spent the night in it) and thrown on some random clothes I grabbed off my bedroom floor, Daisy and I got in my car and drove off to get our assignments for today. Sitting at the wheels, abusing my car horn whenever a poor bastard crossed my path, were they fellow drivers, bikers or even senior citizens making their pathetic existence across the road, I realized how fucking annoying it is when people seem to be blissfully unaware of the fact that you're in a bad mood, and just crap all over it with their nauseating perkiness. The thought hit me when I overheard Daisy complementing her own reflection when putting on lipstick in the side view mirror. And here's the real kick in the crotch: that simple act made me miss the fact that the car in front of me had stopped at a red light (another grandparent cutting off traffic) and bump into the car in front of me.

This was not a violent car-chase scene kind of bump, but more of a gentle pat on the back... of someone else's car. The driver, in this case a menstruating cow taking a break from spilling coffee all over her expensive looking business blouse, got out of the car in a most hysterical fashion, flailing her arms and having a public hissy fit about my driving skills. Daisy, always so helpful, volunteered to "do the talking" so I can now sit back and look forward to hearing from said cow's lawyer. Probably a court date up ahead, as well.

I don't think that's what Rube meant by trying to pass on his 'fly on the wall' philosophy to me. In fact, having parked my poor, injured car by the sidewalk outside Der Waffle Haus, I was just about to find out how the always understanding and forgiving Rube felt about my little anecdote from fifteen minutes ago.


End file.
